Losing Yourself
by Cul8tr
Summary: Sometimes you just need to distance yourself from other people. If they care, they'll notice. If they don't, you know where you stand. (Chapter Four and Five have not been edited yet)
1. Chapter 1

**I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS. **

Chapter One

"Idiot!"

The words stung 16-year-old Timothy Drake, or Tim, in this case. It was like this every day, people bashing him, calling him rude and hurtful names, telling him to kill himself.

But he couldn't let that get to him.

Then they would know how weak he was. How he could let such a stupid thing get under his skin. It wasn't going to last long, Tim assured. He had to block it out. But it was hard getting hit with these words, he didn't want to go through the pain, he didn't want anyone to know that such little things could get to him like that.

Gotham Academy, the school he and Damian went to five days a week, seven hours a day; it was hell.

Tim laid his backpack down on the wet grass, it was lunch hour and he didn't feel the need to eat. In fact, he was hardly eating at all. He swept his black hair back from his face and sat down with his legs crossed. He zipped open his backpack and took out some homework, what else could he do?

"Drake."

Tim looked up cautiously to see his younger brother Damian, gazing down towards him. Tim put his homework back in his backpack and remarked, "Yes?"

"Get up and get back inside." Damian stated. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Yeah it's a quarter past twelve." Tim answered.

"You mean three quarters past twelve, idiot." Damian crossed his eyes. "I was forced to go and get you, Drake. You're late for class."

"But I just sat down," Tim acknowledged, he was confused and rather dazed. "There's no way lunch could be over that quickly…"

"-tt- Fine. If you don't believe me, you can get in trouble. I don't care." Damain pouted and marched off back inside the school.

Tim shook his head and proceeded and continued on in his homework. But he couldn't focus, it almost seemed impossible.

Words kept ringing in his ears, they swirled around his brain and kept reminding him of what they called him. He sighed and put his work in his backpack and darted inside.

Tim opened the doors and appeared a empty, chilly hallway, the doors were shut. The cafeteria was empty, just perfect.

Tim rushed over to them guys' restroom and closed the door behind him. He gazed into the mirror and gagged at his reflection.

Ugly. As usual.

He almost collapsed on the floor as he dozed off again. He entered the bathroom stall and locked the door behind him, zipped open his backpack and brought out a plastic bag with a razor in it. His heart pumped with anxiety and he breathed heavily.

"Don't do it, Tim." Tim told himself. "It would prove them right. You can't, imagine how angry people will be if you do." His hand shook and he brought the razor out of the plastic bag. "Don't hurt the people who actually care about you. They're.. they're words don't matter. They don't. Try to resist, you don't have too—"

Too late.

In his arm blood poured over and dripped unto the floor.

He proven them right.

He was weak.

##########

Timothy seemed to have no memory. He might've dozed off again and no one seemed to have awoken him. He opened his eyes to find himself in a slightly lit room, he was still in school, he noticed, but he must've been in the stall for far more time.

Tim tried to heave himself off the floor, but he had little strength, and even the slightest movement made every bone is body weak and tired. He groaned and tried to get up again, but failed. He looked at his arm, where the blood had dried up and made a huge mess. What time was it? Far past school hours that is.

His phone rang violently and gave Tim a migraine. He tried lifting his hand up to reach into his backpack and receive it but with the pain in his body, it seemed impossible. He thought about something Dick had taught him—just a while back, back when he was… doing well. It was how to take control of your body again once being paralyzed. Tim wasn't paralyzed, but it was sort of the same thing.

Tim closed his eyes as his phone again, blood rushed through his body and he could finally start to move. He reached into his backpack and held his phone and answered it with a tired "Hello?"

"Drake?"

Damian. "…Yes?" Why it'd had to be Damian, the Devil Spawn. Damn that kid.

"Where are you?" Damian asked, almost infuriated. "Pennyworth called you twice and then he told me to call you because _someone_ wouldn't pick up his phone. I left school three hours ago and I thought you had some extra-curricular activity and needed to stay after. But no activity is more than an hour and half long."

Tim sighed, he couldn't tell Damian about this, he couldn't tell anyone, he had to keep this thing a secret, he didn't want anyone to get involved in this, nor become worried. The only choice available—to lie. "I had to help clean up, Damian. No worries."

"-tt- Nice lie, Drake." Tim could almost hear Damian shaking his head. "Your girlfriend wants to speak to you."

Girlfriend? He didn't recall having a girlfriend… or even wanting one for that matter. "I don't have a girlfriend." He responded, confused.

"She might as well be." Damian handed the phone over to Tim's 'girlfriend'. Her voice almost trembled as he spoke to him.

"Tim! Are you alright! Damian told me everything. What's wrong? Can I do anything to help?"

Wonder Girl. Or 'Cassie'.

"Cassie? No… I don't need any help and there's nothing wrong." Tim regained full control of his body and leaped up from the cold ground. "Look, I don't feel like talking right now."

"Yes, I see." Cassie replied. "Not feeling like talking to Damian now. You have to talk to me to feel more at ease."

Timothy nearly dropped his phone he was so shocked she would say something like that. "No! Err—no. I don't feel like talking to anyone right now so please leave me alone!" Tim hung up and shoved his phone right inside his backpack, rolled the sleeve of his red shirt down to hide his bloody cut, and exited the bathroom. Tim entered the hallway to daylight and rushed down the hallway and outside Gotham Academy.

It was long way's back to Wayne Manor, almost three miles, but Timothy had no source of transportation, he was defiantly not going to call Alfred and come pick him up. And there's no way in hell he is taking a taxi.

Might as well just walk.

##########

An hour later, Tim finally arrived at the Manor and entered—not without identification first though.

"Master Timothy." Alfred greeted as he turned the corner to see Tim. "May I take your backpack?"

Tim froze in his tracks and scratched his neck. "Uh, no. I'm capable of taking care of my own things."

"Very well." Alfred said. "Does something trouble you?"

"What? No—nothing at all." Tim lied and started walking past Alfred towards his bedroom. "Just some homework that I need to get started on."

"Alright." Alfred said. "Dinner is in fifteen. We are having steak. And Master Richard is coming over."

Tim tripped over his own feet once Alfred told Dick is coming over. He hadn't seen him since Barbara died over a year ago. Nor talked to him. Dick was really the only one Tim could talk too, he knew everything about Tim. Probably more than Tim knew himself. Seeing him was going to be best part of his day—he hoped.

"Master Timothy, are you alright?" Alfred questioned. "You just tripped."

"What?" Tim asked, getting up. "Oh, I just got lost in my own thought I guess." Silence came over them and Tim smiled awkwardly. "Hey, where's Cassie?"

"Are you wanting to apologize to her?" Alfred asked. "Because she left a long while ago."

"Oh…" Tim voice traveled off. "I was being a bit rude to her and I wanted to apologize to her. But since she's already gone, I'll do it another day." Tim began walking off to his room, his arm began stinging as he then remembered what he did a while back, and he was so depressed. And without anyone to talk to, it'd seemed like he was alone in this world.


	2. Chapter 2

**I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS  
><strong> 

Chapter Two

Timothy laid in his bed looking up at the ceiling. He was so terribly hungry, he had been putting off offers of food Alfred had told him to eat, declining and telling he was not at all hungry. It had been five days since he last eaten and he had to put off the cravings of food for it seemed like a year now. He was in no mood to eat now, or ever. Tim had been called fat and large and whatnot. It just lowered his metabolism.

Tim turned over in his bed and laid on his side. He rolled his sleeve up to reveal two cuts he had made. And it stung terribly. He wanted to cut some more, to make the pain leave his body, but with one cut, he made two more, and with two cuts, he made three more, it was a never ending process.

Tim finally stirred out his bed and ruffled his jet black hair, he went over to his mirror he had by his dresser and looked at his reflection.

"Why can't I be loved?" Tim whispered to himself. "Why can't I be the 'perfect guy'? Why can't I be swooned over? Damn Jason gets more love than me!" Tim pulled his fist back and forward and punched right into his mirror; the glass shattering in thousands of pieces over his dresser and floor. Tim collapsed onto the floor and curled up into a ball, glass basically ripping through his skin and making him bleed.

#########

A knock came upon the teenager's door and Tim piped up, tears spilling from his eyes, he quickly wiped them up with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Master Tim, are you alright?" Alfred's voice seemed to give Tim a terrible headache, he groaned and started to stand up. "I heard something break, may I enter?"

"D-damn it." Tim stuttered and his legs shook, he was so weak, he almost wanted to eat. "N-no. It was a minor accident, I can do it myself."

"If you insist." Alfred began to walk away from Tim's door but stopped and told him: "Dinner is on the table. And Master Richard is here."

"He is!?" Tim perked up and exited his room like a bullet, sweeping past Alfred and almost knocking him over. He turned the corner to find Dick talking to Bruce, though he looked almost furious with Bruce, Tim's eyes widened and he saw his older 'brother' basically his best friend. But at the moment he didn't seem like a friend to anyone.

Tim suddenly became shy and almost retraced his steps while Alfred walked past him, without even noticing him, typical. Timothy bit his lip and sighed, he hadn't seem him over a year, ever since he moved to Bludhaven. Maybe Dick wasn't the same, and maybe he didn't care.

Maybe he forgot about Tim.

"Master Tim, please accompany us, we are about to eat." Alfred invited and pulled out Tim's chair. Tim turned the corner and faced his 'family' again. Bruce, Dick, and Damian were already sitting down, while Alfred had Tim's chair pulled out.

Tim started walking towards the table and sat down in his seat, and the silence continued. Alfred finally sat down and they began eating, not including Tim.

Damian nudged Tim in the arm and whispered, "Speak up you bastard. We all know you been waiting to see your boyfriend for months."

"He is not my boyfriend." Tim replied, but he didn't really care on why Damian called Dick his boyfriend. He was more focus on why Damian called him a bastard. "He's just a friend."

"-tt- Please, Drake."

"Leave me alone, Damian."

"Ah, so you're defending him now?"

"I'm not defending Dick."

"Then speak up."

Tim swallowed and gazed at Dick, almost to find himself staring at the young adult, he missed him so much. But some reason he didn't want to talk to him, he felt like keeping himself hidden and distant from Dick. Besides, he probably didn't care about what was on his mind at the moment.

"How is everyone?" Dick chirped, breaking the silence.

"Why do you ask us, Grayson?" Damian's eyebrows rose. "I mean, it seems like you want to hear it from a specific person."

"What do you mean by specific?" Dick questioned. "I haven't seen everyo—er, you guys in while. It's nice to ask how you are doing."

"-tt- I'm doing fine, Grayson." Damian sipped a glass of water and rolled his eyes.

"Why didn't you say everyone?" Tim asked softly, folding his arms.

"Excuse me?" Dick said.

"I said, why didn't you say everyone?" Tim repeated tilting his head.

"Because—"

"You miss _Jason_, don't you?" Tim's voice was soft and quiet, almost unheard.

"What?"

"You miss Jason, don't you!?" Tim yelled, anger flowing through his body.

"Well, I suppose so—"

"Fuck! I knew it!" Tim yelled infuriated, slamming the table with anger.

"Timothy! Language, please!" Alfred said, standing up and trying to console Tim.

"I knew you only cared about fucking _Jason_!" Tim screamed, standing up from his chair. "It's always Jason, Jason, Jason! Even when Barbara was alive that was all you ever cared about! Damn you to hell!"

"Tim that's _not_ what I meant!" Dick yelled, also standing up from his chair.

"Then what did you mean?! That you care about Jason more than me?!"

"Is that what this is about? You're jealous of Jason? Timmy you know I care about everyone equally and that will never change, understand?"

"Shut up! You been seeing Jason behind my back ever since Barbara died, you never cared about me or anything else in the world besides Jason. Why haven't you come to see me, Dick? Have you forgotten about me? Do I mean nothing to you know?" Hot tears spilled out of Tim's eyes but he quickly wiped the away, imagine how much Damian would tease him about him crying.

"…Is that how you really feel, Tim? That I forgotten about you?" Dick asked, walking over to Tim.

Tim had to ponder for a second, is that how he truly felt? Like Dick didn't care for him? Tim folded his arms and looked towards the ground, Dick didn't know how pain felt.

On second thought, he did.

"Timmy," Dick pulled Tim into an embrace. "I will never stop caring about you, you never left my mind. I know I haven't come and seen you in forever, but Jason's not the reason why." Tim immediately backed away from Dick, he think he could just waltz himself in here and expect to get on his good side?

Like hell.

"Then what is the reason?" Tim asked, folding his arms again.

"…That's not important." Dick said, seizing his coat from his chair. "I suppose I should go now."

"Go? You're leaving already?" Tim asked. "You just got here." Although he hated Dick's guts, he still wanted him to stay, he brings the warmth and love of Wayne Manor together—just not today.

"Tim, Dick has his city to save, and we have ours." Bruce acknowledged. "Also Tim, it's your night to patrol, suit up." Bruce sat up and began exiting the room.

"But—"

"No excuses."

Tim sighed and turned away to go get his uniform, whispering a 'good-bye' to Dick. Then he closed his bedroom door behind him and put his back against it.

Tim was tired, not you're average, tired, but tired. He hadn't eaten in five—now six—days and he wasn't even the tiniest bit starving. Last month, he weighed 156 pounds. And the last time he weighed himself—which was yesterday—he was down to 112.

He needed to go lower.

Timothy heard a bang on his door that seemed to have ruptured his ear drums, it was Bruce's voice booming loud and annoying as he tried to process all the information he was giving.

_"I need you get dressed faster!"_

Who cares on how slow he dresses.

_"I need you to patrol until three in the morning."_

Get the police to do it.

_"I am going to break down this door if you don't hurry up."_

Go ahead.

_"Now I understand why Damian is here now."_

That broke it.

Did Bruce just called Tim… replaceable? No, he wouldn't. Bruce took Tim under his wing for a reason, but Damian is here for some reason too. The Devil Spawn shouldn't even be here; the ex-assassin. But why did it make Tim so terribly angry when Bruce said… that.

Why was even here?

Oh right, because Dick was in Bludhaven, no one had seen Jason let alone contact him. Damian just turned thirteen and _apparently_ he was still too young to patrol all night.

_"Tim, let's go."_

Tim quickly put on his red and black costume and exited his room and walked alongside Bruce towards the door.

As Alfred opened it, it already dark outside. And Tim wondered how Dick got to Bludhaven, since it was quite a while's way from Gotham and he only stayed at Wayne Manor for less than an hour. He probably had unfinished business to do.

Nonetheless, Tim didn't need—or want—to worry about Dick right now, what he needed to worry about is how he's going to tell Bruce he's really tired and can't patrol tonight.

Truth is, he's not.

**A/N: Okay, I stayed up until eleven at night writing this story and decided to go ahead and publish it, but I woke up this morning and basically wanted to rewrite this entire chapter, I practically did for that matter. I was really tired and I wanted to get this chapter out of the way. Then I just reread and hated it. So I added 500 more words and I think I'm satisfied. But now I'm going to write chapter 3, 4, and 5 later today so stayed tuned for more. :**


	3. Chapter 3

**(Quick Disclaimer: I am so sorry I haven't updated this story in forever, my computer is literal crap and I can't write anything without it crashing and not saving my work, very frustrating. Luckily I had the patience to rewrite all the chapters that were deleted. Again, I am sorry and I won't take as long of a hiatus on a story again)**

** I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS**

Chapter Three

Timothy gritted his teeth as he landed on a building and nearly fell on his face, going this long without eating was killing him, he wanted to tell Batman about this, but he couldn't. Hell, he couldn't even tell Dick. He clicked a button on his arm and a hologram of a map appeared. He highlighted the destination he needed to travel to and muttered,

"Batman?"

"What?" He said, annoyed at Tim.

"Is it okay if we go different directions?" Tim questioned. "I think we might be able to go faster instead of going the same way. We're just patrolling, anyways."

"Fine." Batman said simply. "With us separated, you'll do better than you have been, you're slacking, Tim. Don't think I haven't noticed."

Tim bit his lip when he heard Bruce say "Tim". He usually never uses his real name while on patrol for sake of his identity. "If you think that's best."

"I'm putting on a tracking device on your back just in case." Batman said, lifting up Tim's cape and sticking it to his back. "Move out." He said and quickly disappeared into the night.

Tim collapsed onto the building rooftop as soon as Batman left, he was so tired and he honestly thought about going back to Wayne Manor, telling Bruce he finished early. He breathed heavily and pulled the tracking device off his uniform.

He proceeded off the rooftop and jumped from the building. Nearly halfway down to the ground, Tim pulled out a grappling hook and aimed it at the nearest building, but to his demise, the hook missed the building and his eyes quickly widened. Tim pulled out another gadget and aimed it at the ground, it soon produced a spongy like material and Tim landed right on it, suffering from a minor headache.

Civilians on the sidewalk stopped to take pictures and cars honked at Tim, who was literally in the middle of the road. He jumped out of the sponge and balanced himself on his feet, blushing and running away from the crowd, which, to his despair, followed after him.

He ran quicker and his energy began to decrease again, every part of his body hurt like hell and running wasn't going to make it better.

Tim took out his grappling hook and aimed carefully this time to a street lamp. Luckily, it hooked, and Tim was pulled up and away from the crowd and landed on the street lamp, nearly falling off it.

The crowd became confused and gave up looking for him, soon they departed from each other and Tim was home free. Then he felt someone grab his cape and pull him up. He was thrown on the rooftop of a building, and Tim could've swore he passed out, but didn't.

"What the hell were you thinking?" the man asked.

Tim lifted himself up painfully and his eyes adjusted to the figure standing before him.

Well, shit.

How did Batman find him anyways? After all, he did take the tracking device off himself.

"_Tim_." Batman said arms folded, his face emotionless.

Tim bit his lip and looked away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen, I swear."

"I think you're done for the night." Batman assured. "Go back to the Manor. I don't want to see your face until morning."

"Well, as it is twelve in the morning-"

"I didn't ask for your feedback." Batman eyes narrowed. "Go. Now."

Tim need not to respond and got up from the ground, he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and ran off back to Wayne Manor.

########

Tim arrived at Wayne Manor and rang the intercom, then he heard Alfred's voice come through.

"Hello Master Tim, opening the gates for you right now." Alfred said, and as he did, the gates opened not even a minute later. Tim came through them and they closed behind him.

Before Tim could even ring the doorbell, the door opened and Alfred stood upon him.

"You're done patrolling already?" Alfred asked.

"Bruce made me go home." Tim uttered, walking past Alfred.

"Oh he did? Might I ask why?"

"No." Tim said simply and entered his room and slammed the door behind him. He stripped himself and got into some pajama pants, a t-shirt, and collapsed onto his bed.

'It's not my fault that I'm not doing well.' Tim thought to himself. 'Honestly, it's everyone who knows me. In uniform and out.'

Tim's phone buzzed and he picked it up from his nightstand. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the notification.

He unlocked his phone and it brought him to the Gotham City News, the headline: 'Red Robin Falling from Rooftops?'

He scrolled down the page to have found an entire article written about what just happened. A video was included with himself falling and landing in the sponge. Tim read through the entire thing, but mainly focused on what it said at the end: 'Maybe Gotham City is not safe after all? This so called 'hero' caused havoc on the roads of Gotham, nearly causing a collision. What's wrong with him?'

Tim turned off his phone and slammed it on his nightstand. He buried his head in the pillow and screamed as he loud as he could. He stopped and got up from his bed and entered his personal bathroom and shut the door behind him.

He opened a draw and took out a razor blade, he looked at his arm again, which had scars from the last cuts he made and frowned, what the hell was he doing? He knew what cutting could cause, he knew the punishment.

But he didn't care.

Tim slid the blade across his skin and grunted, "That's for being weak." He cut himself again. "That's for not following Bruce's orders." And he did once more. "And finally, for being the worst fricken person ever." Blood sept through his arm and dripped onto the floor, he cleaned the blade through warm water and then his arm, but not to make the blood go off his arm, but to make it sting, to torture himself even more.

Tim turned off the faucet and exited his bathroom, he climbed into bed and collapsed instantly, less than a minute later, he soon drifted off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS**

Chapter Four

Timothy's door opened quietly, Alfred had come to wake Tim up for school. He rang his bell and said softly, "Master Tim, time to get up, school starts soon and breakfast shall be on the table shortly."

Tim groaned and turned his body around, his hair unkempt and his bed blankets both on the floor and his bed. Alfred smiled and closed his door, and as he did so Tim jumped up from his bed and wiped the spit away off his face. He arose from his bed and ran his fingers through his hair; combing it out.

He stretched his arms and legs out and entered his bathroom to take a shower, he shut the door and turned the knob to the shower, water bursting out of it. Tim took of his pajamas and stepped into the shower, the cold water touching his skin.

His hair fell onto his face and he had no need to sweep it away, he could care less, might as well put shampoo in his eyes for all that he knew. Tim looked at his arm and saw the cuts he made recently, he frowned and suddenly lost his balance; falling to the ground, with a grunt and a miserable "Ow"

Tim removed his hair from his face and slammed his first on the glass of the shower door, it nearly cracking. He brought his first back and looked at his now bleeding knuckles, he got up out of the shower and turned the knob off.

Tim dried his body with a towel, put his clothes on, and fixed himself to make himself presentable.

He exited his bathroom and grabbed his backpack and slowly groaned.

Timothy Drake, forgot to his homework. He had never forgotten to do it before, what could've caused him to forget now?

"Master Tim," Alfred said, opening the door and slightly shocking Tim. "I apologize, but breakfast is ready."

"Alright, I'm coming." Tim replied, and walked out his bedroom.

Tim pulled out a chair and sat down, pancakes were placed before him and he swallowed.

Damian growled as he looked at Tim, who sat across from him. "Drake." Damian said, taking a sip of his orange juice.

"Damian." Tim replied, eyes narrowing.

"What happened to your knuckles?" Damian asked, tilting his head.

"That's something I never thought I'd live to see." Tim said.

"And what would that be?"

"You caring."

Damian's nose scrunched up, annoyed at Tim's comment, but shrugged it off and resumed eating.

Tim looked down at his food, weirdly, his stomach didn't even growl at the sight of this, he didn't even feel hungry in anyway, so he pushed the food away from him and looked away from Damian.

"What are you doing, Drake?" Damian asked, to his luck.

"None of your business." Tim frowned.

"Do you not like Pennyworth's food of some sort?" Damian questioned, putting a hand on his chin. "Or, you just don't like-" Damian eyes trailed around the room, to make sure Alfred was nearby, and indeed he was. "Eating." Damian said this rather loudly.

"Are you hungry, Master Tim?" Alfred asked, coming over to the two boys.

"No, not really." Tim replied, his voice stuttering. "Can you wrap this up and save it for later?"

"It would be my pleasure," said Alfred and seized his plate.

"And Alfred?"

"Yes, Master Tim?"

"I'm sorry for how rude I was yesterday." Tim admitted. "I just had a rough day."

"Apology accepted." Alfred said, nodding his head and walked away towards the kitchen area.

Tim sighed and got up from his chair, proceeding to clench his backpack until Damian slammed the table, rupturing Tim's ear. "Why did-"

"What's your deal?" Damian interrupted. "Don't think I haven't been studying you, Drake. Your weight has gone down, you haven't been eating, and your skills has gone from a one to a negative one. And don't you _dare_ lie, because I _will_ perceive it and report it to Father immediately."

Tim sighed and folded his arms. "Damian, I assure you nothing is wrong, so get off my back."

"-tt- Drake, why are you even here?" Damian said, smiling.

"You should be asking yourself that." Tim replied.

"Don't forget who the blood son is."

"And don't forget who was here before you." Tim said, he grabbed his backpack and walked to the door, opening it and slamming it after him.

"Master Damian," Alfred asked from the kitchen. "What was that sound?"

"-tt- The sound of anger from Drake, Pennyworth." Damian said, shaking his head.

#######

"Timothy, wake up!" Tim's head raised from his desk, his math teacher stood before him, a long metal stick in his hand, his face didn't look too pleased. "Am I going to have to send _another_ note to your parents again?"

What did he mean _another_ note?

"No sir." Tim said, nodding off to sleep yet again, but quickly jumped after he heard the teacher slam the metal stick on his desk. He heard his classmates laughing, he wanted to punch them all in the face right now, and it wasn't his fault that he was tired! Damn Batman making him stay out until three am, (well, until he told him to go home.)

"And that's another note." the teacher promised. "You used to be best student, what happened to you?" the teacher shook his head and went back to his desk.

"Society happened." Tim muttered, slumping into his seat.

#######

Tim poked at his food, it was now lunch hour and Tim always had to bring the food Alfred made for him that morning, but he never actually ate it. He always threw it away so it looked like he did.

Tim sighed and looked around him, as usual, he was sitting by himself, while everyone else gossiped and ate together, why do they make it look so easy to gain friends?

People have told Tim they were friends, but that was years ago. Now they barely talk to him anymore, let alone stayed in contact. They moved on in their life, without him.

Maybe being alone was better than being with somebody who doesn't care.

Tim sighed and fiddled with his fingers, he even saw the Devil Spawn talking to best friend, Colin Wilkes. It even looked like everybody liked him, how did he do it? How could _Damian_ be better than him?

Tim then felt his hair being grabbed by someone far more taller and heavier than him. Tim yelled out a small scream as his head was slammed into the table in front of him. He heard everybody laughing when his head was lifted back up. Tim was pushed out his seat roughly and his back hit another table beside it.

"Asshole." the guy before him uttered. Tim didn't reply, he closed his eyes and just wished he could die right now. "What are you going to do, tell on me? Get up, jackass!" Tim was kicked in face with great force, his cheek now turning purple and black. "Get the hell up, dammit!"

Tim forced himself up on his feet but wobbled and nearly fell back down, but regained his balance by leaning on the table behind him.

The guy who Tim had never seen his shirt before, grabbed the collar of his shirt and whispered, "Go _fucking_ kill yourself. You're wasting air that you simply don't need." He finished and slammed the back of Tim's head on the table, then he left.

#######

Tim was sure he blacked out once he found himself in the Nurse's office, he sat up and felt his face, it was completely black and his cheeks have swelled. He had a bag of ice on the right of him and it was covered in red.

Why didn't he die yet?

"You're finally up, Tim." a nurse came inside the room with a folder in her hand, the door shut behind her and she smiled. "How are you feeling? Do you remember anything?"

"All of it, actually." Tim replied, his voice sounded a bit raspy. "How long have I been here?"

"You missed three periods." she said. "But it's alright. School just let out ten minutes ago. So you are free to go home."

"Okay." Tim said, getting off the counter, with each step he took, it felt like he was carrying one thousand pounds on his back.

"Do you want me to call your parents?" the nurse asked.

"No!" Tim yelled, cautiously. "Sorry, there's a ringing in right ear. I'll tell him myself."

"Alright." the nurse nodded, and opened the door for Tim. "Feel better."

Tim half-heartily smiled and exited her office. But as soon as she closed her door, Tim became worried, how was he was going to go home with this mess on his face. He decided that needed to go to someone else who he trusted.


	5. Chapter 5

**I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS  
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Chapter Five

Tim knocked on the door to the apartment in front of him, he walked for almost six hours and it was nearly eight pm, people stared at him the entire time, not even asking what happened or whatever, his face was terribly bruised and his legs were about to go out on him.

He leaned his back on the door as he knocked again, he was out there for about three more minutes until the door opened, causing Tim to fall backwards, but was caught before he became intact with the ground.

"Timmy?" Dick asked. "What are you doing here? What happened to your face?" Dick pulled Tim inside and closed the door, he brought him over to the small living room and laid him down on the couch. "How did you get here?"

"I walked from school." Tim replied, curling up into a ball. "My legs really ache now-"

"Well of course they do!" Dick interrupted. "Let me get you water, and some food and…" Dick continued talking as he open his fridge, taking out a water bottle and a piece of cold pizza. He ran back to Tim and shoved it in his face. "Here, eat this pizza, and drink this. Sorry, pizza's cold." He smiled worriedly.

"I don't like pizza." Tim lied. "But I'll take the water."

"Since when do you not like pizza?" Dick asked, handing Tim the water bottle. "I've seen you eat pizza before and enjoy it."

Tim took a sip and his eyes wandered to the ground. "Since a few months ago."

Dick shrugged and sat down on the couch beside his younger brother, he tapped his foot repeatedly and ran his fingers through his hair. "So… about last the time we saw each other…"

"That was two days ago."

"And I'm sorry."

"But it was me who became infuriated, for no reason at all." Tim admitted. "You have nothing to be sorry about. I should be the one apologizing."

Dick smiled and hugged him, causing Tim to give out a quiet yelp. "Sorry." Dick released. "Hey, what happened to your face?"

"Oh, this?" Tim chuckled nervously. "Just got hit with a dodgeball."

"Really?" Dick cocked his head. "I don't think you know but there's a huge black circle around your eye."

"It was a strong guy." Tim swallowed. "Plus they just blew the ball and he through it my face and I missed."

"Oh. Okay." Dick scratched his head. "But why did you come to me? Alfred could've helped, after all."

"I don't know."

"I think you do."

"Dick! Enough with these questions!" Tim yelled. "My head hurts really badly right now and talking isn't going to cure it."

"…Sorry." Dick apologized. "Do you want some Aspirin?"

"No." Tim said. "I'll just take a blanket, I'm really cold."

"Really? It's like eighty degrees in here."

"Please?"

"Alright." Dick got up from the couch and went to the back to get Tim a blanket.

Tim tossed and turned, he felt very drowsy and he could barely keep his eyes open. He closed his eyes, and he felt a warm blanket go over him. He mouthed a "thank you" and fell asleep.

######

Tim woke up to the smell of... soup? He lifted himself up from the couch armrest and observed his surroundings. Dick was nowhere to be seen, he called out to him but no response came.

Tim became worried, did Dick leave him, again? Tim pushed the blanket off him and got onto his feet, he went out of the living room into the connected kitchen area. He saw the pot where the soup was cooking and took a spoon and dipped it in. He lifted it back up and saw the soup was chicken noodle, Dick's favorite.

Tim put the spoon back in the pot and went over to Dick's bedroom, he saw that his room was a mess, he decided to clean up a little bit, just to be nice.

He ended working on his room for fifteen minutes, it was complete clean, vacuumed and all. Tim walked over to his closet, where Dick has more than one of his Nightwing uniform. He frowned and closed the closet. Tim turned around and went over to his bathroom. It was fairly sized for one person just living here.

Tim sighed and went out of the bathroom and called, "Dick? Where are you?" No response. "Dick! This better not be some sick prank because I am _clearly_ not in the mood for it." Tim ran over to the living room, and plopped down on the couch, putting his arm on the arm rest.

The door before jiggled and opened, and Dick came through, a broad smile on his face and plastic bags filled of food in his hands.

"Where the heck were you?" Tim asked, his head beginning to hurt again.

"You're up? Sorry, I didn't know you would wake up this early." Dick went to the kitchen and put the heavy bags down on the table. "I went to the grocery store."

"Without telling me?" Tim asked.

"You were sleep." Dick acknowledged. "Can you help me unpack this stuff?"

"Sure." Tim walked over to the kitchen and started taking out the groceries, which they were quite a lot of. "Why'd you buy all this stuff, you're the only one living here."

"I buy more then what I need." Dick said. "Sometimes I give more than half of this away to the homeless dressed as Nightwing. It's so cute seeing the kids' faces once they see they won't have to worry about what they're going to eat that day."

"That's nice." Tim said, barely listening to what he said.

"You don't sound very interested." Dick said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Tim lied. "Just tired."

"You can stay over, if you want." Dick said. "You can sleep in my bedroom and I'll sleep on the couch. Unless you want me to drive you back to the Manor."

"I'll stay here." Tim said. "I'm not really in the mood to go back to Gotham."

"Don't you have school tomorrow?"

"…There's a conference tomorrow so they're cancelling school."

"Okay." Dick said, putting the last can away. Then he put all the bags in one huge bag and smiled. "I made soup."

"I noticed." Tim smiled.

Dick turned off the oven knob and grabbed two bowls and two spoons. "How much do you want?"

"No offence but, I'm not that hungry right now." Tim said, looking away from Dick.

"So a little bit?"

"I'm not hungry _at all_."

"Oh?" Dick said, confused. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Tim nodded and started walking off.

"Tim, can I ask you something?" Dick asked, sitting down with a bowl of soup by himself.

"Yeah… sure." Tim swallowed, he knew what he was going to ask.

"When was the last time you ate?"

Tim pushed his hair back and faced Dick, who just took a sip of the soup. "T-this morning." he stuttered. "Alfred made a huge breakfast and I guess it filled me up to last the whole day." Tim smiled nervously.

"Oh, Alfred." Dick laughed. "Next time, don't eat so much okay?"

"Okay." Tim said and went in the direction Dick's bedroom was. "I'm going to bed."

"I have some pj's." Dick said. "You can wear them if you want. They'll be a little big on you though.

"Thanks." Tim said.

"Goodnight, Timmy."

Tim shut his bedroom door. He went to his dresser and opened a draw and pulled out a long sleeved shirt and some pajama pants. He stripped himself and put them on.

Tim climbed into bed and collapsed, Dick was being so nice to him, even after he lied more than once to him and declined his offers of food. Honestly, Dick is the best biological brother he has. Dick made him feel good about himself.

Tim still didn't forget about what happened hours ago.

Tim was told to kill himself.


End file.
